Fixed and Broken
by HeyBabyRun
Summary: Some things you can't change, some things you can't stop, but, sometimes, the bad things can also come with the good.


There was a man standing underneath a street lamp. He checked his watch, frowning at the time. It was late. He was late.

Chuckling to himself, he stepped out of the light and began walking down the street.

It was May 30, 2010, and he was late.

A worn-down bus floated down the road, stopping at the empty bench on the side of the road. The doors opened, and the man ran to catch up, ducking in as the doors closed shut. He barely sat down mid-way down the bus before the driver put it into drive.

"Where ya goin'?" he called back over his shoulder; he was on his way home, he thought, as soon as this man got off he could trudge home to his nearly-empty house. The bag of dog food tucked behind his seat slid forward a few inches as he came to a stop sign, and again he reminds himself to feed Lucy.

"Could you drop me off over on 32nd and Lincoln?" the other man asked, running a tired hand through his hair.

The bus driver gave a silent nod, glad to hear he wouldn't need to go out of his way too far before dropping his bus off. Soft music played over the radio and filled the nearly empty bus' silence.

Rolling to a stop, he waited until the peculiarly dressed man stepped out and away before starting his journey back home.

The streets were practically deserted by this time of night, especially on a weekday. Still, he stopped completely at the stop signs and drove slow, wondering which route would take him back to the station faster. His eyes narrowed as he rolled to a stop, he opened up the doors. The warning signals on the train were flashing, but, looking left then right, he couldn't see any trains approaching.

Cautiously, he pulled forward, eyeing the approaching car. The lights were brighter than usual, tonight. He let out a curse, then remembered he needed to make that appointment tomorrow to get a new pair of glasses.

xx

He stepped out of the bus, then felt a buzzing in his pocket. Fumbling, he pulled out a small metal box. It beeped a few times and then whistled, effectively catching his attention.

"What is it?" he asked it, half-expecting an answer. He opened it and inside were different switches and buttons. He flipped a few, giving up when it didn't offer him any more advice. It beeped one last time before completely turning itself off, seemingly frustrated with the man as the man was with it.

He ran a hand through his hair, tucking the device back into his pocket. Humming, he made his way down the street, looking for some kind of sign of what to do next.

He felt it before he heard it. There was a feeling in his gut that caused him to start running and he trusted that feeling more than he trusted anything. Out of breath, he turned a corner- then another, and another, and anoth-

"No." he whispered, his eyes watching the scene unfold, he ran faster, trying to catch up- maybe if he ran fast enough, he could jump in and-

_CRASH!_

He stumbled, throwing his arm up to protect his face from the debris. The sound was deafening, and he started, fumbling to put out the fire on his jacket sleeve. He moved closer,the train still moving forward, pushing the remnants of the crash around. His shoes crunched through broken glass, and he then realized only the back of the bus was lying parallel to the train tracks. The lights flickered on and off, as if they didn't realize they weren't needed anymore.

He stood there, the train just a sound in the distance. He wanted to move closer, but _what good would that do now?_

The sound of police and ambulance sirens began to grow louder and he realized he needed to leave. He began walking away, head down, and then he frowned. Bending down closer, he reached and picked up what had been crunching under his shoes.

He shook his head and stood up.

"I need to go." he says, giving one last glance to the still-smoking wreck. He let the dog food fall from his hand and began walking quickly towards an alleyway. He watched from the shadows as the police began closing off the scene, turning away when one man noticed him. Ignoring the shouts, he ran to the end of the alley.

The young policeman ran to catch up with him, turning the corner and was met with the fading sound of the Tardis disappearing.

"Doctor."

Pulling the hat off, she ran a tired hand through her blonde hair.

* * *

AN: Everybody copes in different ways, and this is my way of doing so after the past couple days. I've had this idea in my head for a bit, and I might continue with this but I also need to finish other stories. Oh, goodness.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


End file.
